Don't You Remember
by tangerinepalm101
Summary: Freddie and Sam are separated at colleges across the country from each other. Neither of them can stop remembering the times they were together, but it's a long road to be truly reunited. Seddie.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N- So, this story begins with junior year of college. Each chapter will contain a flashback to before Sam and Freddie were seperated. POVs will most likely alternate each chapter; this one is Freddie's POV. Review if you like it.**

Present

I don't think you're supposed to miss someone that you spent the vast majority of your life arguing with. But Sam and I were never logical, so maybe that's why I miss her more than anything. I miss her smile, her eyes, and maybe most of all I miss screaming at her because I've never felt so alive. Coasting through school and studying all of this technical stuff is not nearly as fun and fulfilling as losing my mind, screaming at her, and making up.

My roommate, Craig Tillman, is typing furiously at his laptop. He's majoring in biochemistry or something else suitably confusing. I'm working with computer programming and video editing. With a loud sigh, Craig stops typing. "Done," he says. He turns back to me. He's probably the geekiest guy I've ever met with greasy blond hair and one of the worst cases of post-adolescent acne I've ever seen. I wonder what Sam would say about him. She used to say I was a nerd.

"So, Freddie, I know you're not really the top guy to ask about this... But I was wondering if you maybe had some girl advice. I know you've at least had two girlfriends. That girl on that web-show, Carly. And that other girl that you have as your screen saver and cry about all the time." I flush. I do _not _cry about Sam.

"So any advice?" Craig asks again, looking to me eagerly.

"Um..." I begin. I really don't know what to say. Give up now and save yourself a life of miserable searching. Or at least until you've gained a net worth of several million. Then maybe the girls will be interested in you. Instead I say,"Why don't you just go that party Antonio's having? I think anyone can come."

"But what do I _do?"_ he asks.

"Uh... smile, compliment, get drinks. You know. Haven't you ever seen a chick flick?"

"Only the time my little sister handcuffed me and forced me to watch _Mean Girls."_

"Okay, so basically, just be yourself. Or a better, less geeky version of yourself."

Luckily, Craig didn't take this as an insult. "All right, I'll see you later. You should get out too, Freddie."

"Thanks for the advice," I say, and watch him go out the door. I try to fit in some studying in silence, but I get bored way too quickly. Without realizing it, I find myself on the way to the same party I sent Craig to.

Thus far, I've succeeded in mostly avoiding the party scene. I'm 21 now so I can go to whichever ones I want to, but the appeal seems to have floated above my head. Maybe it was all those after-school specials my mom made me watch. But probably the biggest part of it was the fact that she wouldn't be there. We went to everything together, and now I'm stuck being alone.

I grab a cup of something that looks like punch but is probably watered-down alcohol mixed with food coloring and sugar. It tastes awful, and I almost spit it out. I manage to swallow it down with much difficulty, and then I toss the cup into the nearest trash can.

There's a party going on around me, that's for sure. It has all the elements. Alcohol, music, and people having fun. Except me. I'm not having fun. I feel lost and embarrassed. I hate the feeling. So, I start towards the door. This was a mistake, that's for sure.

"Hey, I know you." It's a girl's voice. I turn towards her, and she smiles. She's pretty with curly brown hair and blue eyes. "Oh, you're on that web-show, iCarly! You're Freddie Benson. Wow, I loved that show when I was in high school."

"Yeah, that's me," I reply. "What's your name?"

"Kayla Lewis," she answers. "So, what's the story? What happened behind the scenes on that thing? God, I sound like a crazed fan girl."

"It's no problem. You know, we were just a couple of teenagers having some fun. It was never anything too serious." I'm kind of lying. It was a serious thing, and we worked super hard on it.

"Wow, this is so weird. And kind of embarrassing. All my friends will tell you I was so obsessed. I can't believe I'm meeting you." She gives a nervous giggle and peers at me through her bangs. "Okay, so what are you majoring in, then?"

"Computer programming and video editing. I think it would be great to have a job working on a TV show or something."

"That's really interesting. I'm working with business, but who cares, really? I'm so boring."

"I don't think you're boring." It came out immediately. I don't how it got to the next part either really. I was fumbling for the doorknob to my dorm. Open already, I scream in my head. At last, it releases and clicks open. We were going to have to stop kissing at some point. It's kind of hazardous. There are a lot of textbooks and unwashed clothes and tech stuff strewn across the floor. Apparently, the safety hazard didn't bother Kayla as she leaned farther into me.

"Holy crap! We've got a live one!" Kayla pulls her face away from mine and spins around. It's Craig, sitting on his bed with his laptop and staring at us. "By the way, your girl catching advice really sucks," he says, looking at me. Then he resumes checking out the girl in the room.

Kayla glares at me. "I thought you said no one was here," she hisses.

"I... I thought he would be preoccupied. Sorry."

She rolls her eyes. "Either get him to leave, or I will." Then she places a hand on her hip and gives me her best serious face. Which wasn't very good, but whatever.

"Um..." I was starting to sort of freak out. What was I even doing? This wasn't me.

"What the heck are you doing?" Kayla and Craig say in unison. She gives him a poisonous look then turns back to me. She presses her lips to mine, but it is as I suspected. No sparks, no feelings. Just a sloppy, wet, nothing-special kiss.

"Sorry, Kayla, I can't." I take her hand gingerly. "You're just too drunk. I wouldn't want to take advantage of you. Maybe some other time." I pat her shoulder gently, and then I kiss her on the cheek and lead her out the door. The whole time she looks thoroughly confused. "Goodbye," I say, shutting the door.

"What were you thinking?" demands Craig. "You just kicked _that_ to the curb? You may never get that lucky again!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, no offense, but you're no hot commodity around Stanford or anything... And she was like totally into you and she was an eight at least!"

"Okay then." Then I proceed to ignore him and work on my homework for a bit. But I can't stop thinking about the real reason I told Kayla to leave. Sam.

* * *

><p>October, Sophomore Year of High School<p>

"Please, if you're so smart, tell me your brilliant solution!" shouted Sam, glaring at me with her blazing blue eyes.

"I'm telling you, just plug the leak with a sponge and some duct tape. No big deal." She stopped glaring and shrugged a little. Clearly, she didn't want to thank me for my brilliant idea. That would require her to admit that I was right.

"What are you guys yelling about this time?" Carly asked, coming down the stairs of her apartment. She sat down between us on the couch in her living room. She's so used to this, being the moderator between the two of us.

"My bathtub has a leak," said Sam.

"And?"

"Fredward says that I need to fix it because it could leak into the apartment below me. But seriously, is that my problem?"

Carly rolled her eyes. "Wow, I actually thought it was something serious this time."

"It _is_ serious," Sam snapped.

"No, it's not," Carly said. "All you guys ever do is argue and argue and argue. Seriously, I just don't get it."

"It's not my fault he's such a nub. What am I supposed to do? Ignore it?"

Apparently Carly didn't feel like arguing with that, and she changed the subject instead. "There's a dance next Friday. It should be pretty fun." Then she grinned widely, and her eyes went distant. She was daydreaming, of course.

"Okay, who asked you?" demanded Sam, cutting to the chase.

Carly hesitated before admitting, "Luke Kramer. The second hottest guy in school." She sighed happily.

I stared at her, feeling disappointed. I was still in love with her. At least, a little bit. Of course, Sam picked up on my silence and jumped in with a quick insult. "Looks like Friday's going to be another night of Fredward crying into his pillow. Nice going, Carly."

"I'm not sad! I don't care," I announced, trying to sound confident. I was failing, and I knew. Sam smiled, her blue eyes shining.

"Aw, he tries to deny it. How precious."

"Shut up," I muttered. "I'm leaving."

"Freddie, come on. Stay," said Carly. But she didn't offer anything more. No 'I'll go with you, Freddie' or at least an 'If Luke hadn't asked, I definitely would have gone with you, Freddie.' Just a feeble apology. It reminds me of when I told her I'd never been kissed two years ago, and she'd done nothing. It was just a kiss, but she wouldn't even give me that. "Sam, please be civil to him," Carly said, giving her a look.

"How can I be civil to a face like that?" she asked, glaring at me with an almost comic level of resentment.

I sighed. Things would never change.

* * *

><p>At least, I didn't think they'd ever change. But I guess they did. Because after almost three years, she was always on my mind like she was branded there. And I want nothing more than to get her back, but who knows if I ever will.<p>

**Thanks for reading! Please review! Suggestions and ideas are welcome. If you liked this, check out my one-shot "The Definition of Love" and my soon-to-be multi-chapter "For the World to See". I really hope more people would give me feedback on the latter, because I'm not entirely sure where it's going. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

Present, Sam POV

I think our story pretty much boils down to this: Girl meets boy. Something rubs her the wrong way and they hate each other for years, or at least think they do. Girl and boy become entangled in an elaborate adolescent project. In our case, a web show. A series of events leads to girl and boy stealing a kiss on their apartment balcony. Back to more of the same, until something clicks. Boy asks girl out, and they date for two years. Everything is as close to perfect as could be expected from two opposites such as them until they realize that their dreams will land them at colleges across the country. They avoid this fact until prom when girl breaks up with boy because long-distance relationships never work out.

I guess that's about the point I'm at now. It's been almost three years, but it still feels like just yesterday was the time of our lives. How times flies.

I'm sitting on my dorm room bed with all of my notes spread out around my blue comforter. I haven't looked them over even once. I can barely concentrate on anything. My roommate, Ashley, is gabbing into her cellphone to one of her thousand boyfriends. I'm ready to vacate in a second. She set up the roommate code on the first day. So far she's the only one who's had to use the "Hookup Terms" which guarantees the user complete privacy until 7:30 AM when all rights expire. There's an empty room set up down the hall with a bunch of mattresses strewn across the floor for roommates like me. I think I've spent about a sixth of my nights there so far. I've gotten quite close to a girl named Haley, whose roommate actually completely kicked her out and threatened her with blackmail if she went to the dean about it.

In my opinion, there really shouldn't be so much studying required for music theory. Really, I mostly go by what sounds right and whatever is running through my head at the moment. But still I have to study almost constantly. Does anyone really need to know how to play a Bm7/9 chord on guitar? It's certainly not used on the radio, the land of the four-chord pop songs.

"Hey, I might have to resort to the Terms again. You're cool with that, right?" Ashley says, giving me a grin as tosses her thick brown hair over her shoulder.

"Of course," I say in a sarcastic monotone. "Totally cool."

"Great. You're the best, roommate."

Yep. Roommate. Like she doesn't even remember my name after a whole semester. She probably doesn't. I hardly spend any time here anyway. I gather all of my packets and papers and stuff them in my bag.

"You know, the Terms do apply to you too. I won't be mad if you have to use them. And don't be embarrassed. I've gotten over it." That's pretty obvious.

"Whatever. My main love affair is with pie and ham. We get it on in the cafeteria," I reply, opening the door. I look back at her. "You know, you're not getting graded on the amount of guys you hook up with. You can get kicked out for failing. There goes your chances with the fraternities, huh?"

Ashley just gives me a funny look and returns to her phone call and painting her toenails an obnoxious shade of hot pink. I shut the dorm room door behind me and make my way to the reject room.

The truth is that it wasn't the studying or the classes or anything that was keeping me from getting a guy. It was him. That guy, the only guy I'd ever truly been with. The one that kept me up at night and made me scared to ever start anything new. The one that I'd let go because I was stupid and too afraid to be with because we were becoming way too perfect. Freddie Benson. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I crash down on one of the mattresses in the room and splay out on my stomach.

"Hey, Sam," says Haley from the mattress beside me. She has a Calculus textbook open on her lap along with a graphing calculator and notebook, clearly in the middle of homework "So, Ashley found a new guy she hasn't defiled yet?"

"Apparently." I want to start trash-talking her, but I don't. Normally I would. Haley and I have come up with a quite a few rather rude nicknames for Ashley, but today I don't feel like it. I knew when I woke up today, that it would be tough one to get through. I don't know why, some days are just harder to survive than others. Freddie has a corner in my brain, and sometimes it takes over more than usual.

Then I know what I have to do. One of the only things that can truly calm me. I bid Haley goodbye and race back to my dorm room. I grab my acoustic guitar from next to my bed and run back out before Ashley can say a word. Next I make my way to the local coffee and snack place, Crazy Beans. It's the favorite for all the coeds.

Jimmy Chester, the owner of the place, nods at me when I enter. We have a good relationship, me and Jimmy. He lets me play my music here whenever I want to. In return, he also lets me have some of his heavenly bacon for free. It's a fair trade. My songs for food. Usually when I'm stuck in a major rut and need some release, I come here. Music cleanses the soul people say. Something like that.

There aren't very many people here today. Maybe a dozen sit at the tables, scattered across the place. I set up on the little makeshift stage in the corner. I sit down on the stool Jimmy's left out and set my guitar on my knee. After quickly checking to see if I'm in tune, I get to strumming. I start off with what I always do, a happy little slice of ignorant teenage infatuation called "Really Happening" about... well, you know who.

I get a couple of smiles, nods, and one person even claps. Then I get into the emo, dark stuff that seems to dominate my writing lately. "Drive Away" is about him driving to Stanford without me and "Permanent" is about him seeming to be permanently etched on my heart.

I'm losing the crowd, and I can tell so I switch to something faster, happier. It doesn't feel right. I'm just not in a cheerful mood. I can't sing about Freddie anymore without feeling like crying, so I go to the song I wrote about my mom. It's even tougher. Tougher to sing, and it makes my whole heart feel weird. It's about how I feel like she never wanted me; she never showed it. Even through therapy, our relationship was never the best.

That's when I get to thinking about the one day Mom and I had a huge fight...

* * *

><p>March, Sophomore Year of High School<p>

"Sam, what are you doing here? You don't even have a smoothie." It was the dork, looking over my shoulder again.

I crumpled a stack of napkins to release my anger. It was a therapy technique. Take your feelings out by harming a non-living object instead of a person. Unfortunately, it was not as satisfying. I glared at Freddie. "None of your business, Frednerd."

"Okay, I just wanted to see what was wrong. It kind of looked like you were crying." He was smiling, but when he saw the poisonous look on my face, he backtracked. "But that's ridiculous, of course. Pucketts don't cry."

"Don't you forget that," I said. He sat down across from me in the booth. "What are you doing sitting down? Get me a smoothie."

Freddie rolled his eyes and got in line. T-Bo tried to sell him some cupcakes on a stick which Freddie repeatedly refused using gradually larger hand gestures, ending with him slapping the counter and T-Bo looking all offended. I laughed, and Freddie slid the money across to T-Bo and walked back toward me with a smoothie and frustrated expression.

"The things I go through for you," he said, handing me my drink. I took a long sip. It was mango, my favorite. He noted my smile and said, "I know you so well."

"Really," I muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Do you think you really know me?" At his nod, I added, "Then prove it."

"Well, I know you like mango smoothies, ham, fat cakes, bacon, fried chicken, meatballs, steak, spaghetti tacos, and hotdogs. You have two cats named Hashbrown and Frothy. Your best friend is Carly, and I'm your second best friend sometimes when I'm not your worst enemy, and you play guitar and..."

"That's too easy. You could tell all that stuff from my Splashface page."

"Well, I know you were crying when I came up to you, whether you'll admit it or not. I'm guessing it's something to do with your mom." He pauses, probably to see if I'm going to rip his face off. I'm just calmly shredding a stack of napkins and sipping my smoothie. "I know you have a twin sister named Melanie who is absolutely the opposite of you, and your mom likes her better which is just horrible for you." He then goes on to recite practically my whole life story. I have absolutely no idea how he knows all of it.

"That's enough," I snapped. "God, you're annoying when you talk like that. It was almost like you lecturing me on photon receptors or whatever that tech chiz is you talk about."

"Oh, I thought you were actually listening."

"No, nope. Total bore. You need to get your facts straight."

"You must have been listening!"

"Don't flatter yourself. See you later, Fredbag."

* * *

><p>I snap back to reality then. I must have been sitting on the stage glazed-eyed for ten minutes. I flush and start strumming some random chords to break the silence. Suddenly, a guy starts walking up to me. He seems vaguely familiar. I'm pretty sure he's in one of my classes. He has dirty blond hair and clear green eyes. He's pretty cute, actually, and he's smiling at me. I stop playing abruptly.<p>

"Hey, it's Sam Puckett, right?" he asks. I don't care how he knows my name. I nod. "I'm Alex Harrington. We have Music Theory together. I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to talk about, you know, composition and stuff when you have time. I think you're really good."

"Sure. Sure, that'd be awesome," I reply. "I'm almost done playing I think."

"Cool. I'll stick around," he says and goes back to his seat and his coffee. I take all of Freddie's love songs and sing them straight to Alex, just to get through the rest of the day. Now I'm thinking that maybe things may turn out better than I thought.

**Thanks for reading! I'd like to thank you guys because 30 people favorited my one-shot, The Defintion of Love, which is really awesome. I have the third chapter for this already written, so I'll probably post it tomorrow or the next day after editing. I hope you enjoyed this and if you did, I'd love a few more reviews. Thanks a lot!**


	3. Chapter 3

"Hello?"

"Hey, Freddie, it's Carly."

I smile at the sound of her voice. We haven't talked in a long while. She's attending Seattle University and majoring in journalism. We've hung out during the summers when I returned to Seattle after school finished for the year. Sam didn't come. At least, she didn't come when I was there.

"Hey, Carly. What's up?" I ask.

"Nothing much. School's going pretty good. My professor, Mr. Stiles, told me that my article on the downside of cosmetic testing on animals was one the best he'd ever read. I was really surprised. I wasn't sure my writing was good enough to actually make a career out of it."

"That's great. My tech classes are going... boringly."

"I thought you loved technology."

"I do... except when it's like 24/7. I took on a few teaching classes. At least, then I won't have to deal with anything past the high school level. So, I might be teaching, like, Tech and Society and Computer Programming classes."

"Wow, Mr. Benson, teacher. I didn't bet on that one."

"Always surprising, that's me."

There's a silence then. I shift uncomfortably in my chair. Then Carly says, "So are you seeing anyone? You know, dating?"

"Um... no," I reply. I haven't seen Kayla since the time we made out and got caught by Craig. Which was probably a good thing, since I definitely was not thinking straight at the time. Since then... well, no other opportunities seemed to have presented themselves.

"Have you seen anyone... at all? I mean, since... Since you and Sam broke up." She sounds apologetic about asking. Carly knows how I feel about this topic, but I also detect a hint of curiousity mixed into her tone.

I don't reply to her question. I just bite my lip. She mentioned Sam, of course she did. Carly and Sam are still close, at least, I assume so. I never talk to Sam and I never talk about her with Carly. But their friendship is unbreakable.

"Freddie?" Carly asks after I'm silent for a several seconds.

"No. No, I haven't. I mean, I have so much homework and stuff. It's ridiculous. I'm in all advanced classes. Honestly, I wouldn't have any time for a girl. It's better this way."

"I don't mean to sound cold, but... You have to get over her. It's been almost three years. You're going to find someone else. I promise." How could she promise something like that? She doesn't know what it feels like. At all.

"I know... I will find someone when I find the time. When I meet the right person," I say. I pause and then ask, "So, what about you, Carly Shay? Found a boyfriend at Stanford?"

She giggles, and I'm glad the serious mood is broken. "Well... yes. His name is Kevin Blake, and he's amazing. He's really smart and one of the nicest guys I've ever met. That's not even getting into his flawless biceps. Oh god, they're incredible. And his eyes, they're the most beautiful blue in existence." She sighs longingly.

"Okay, thanks for the insight into the female brain."

"Sorry. For a second, I forgot I was talking to you, Freddie. That's what love does to you, I guess."

"Well, I'm really happy for you, Carly. He sounds great."

"He _is. _If you know what I mean. I mean, you wouldn't believe—"

"Too much information!"

"Sorry," she says again, laughing. "So, I guess I'll see you soon. You're coming back to Seattle for the summer, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I guess. My mother would never forgive me if I didn't."

"Okay. Goodbye, Freddie."

"Bye, Carls."

I hang up my Pear Phone and get up from my seat. Craig has class right now so I'm alone. I flop down on my bed. My homework beckons, but I ignore it. Carly is right. I have to forget Sam, or at least move on. So why can't I? I guess I loved her a lot more than I ever thought.

* * *

><p>April, Junior Year<p>

I stood by my locker, still feeling distant. It was Monday morning and that Saturday Sam Puckett had kissed me during the school lock-in. I was so shocked that I could barely say anything in reply. For the rest of the night I hid in the boy's bathroom, trying to figure out how exactly I felt about the kiss. It implied... Well, it implied that she was in love with me. Either that or she really wanted to get me to shut up and stop my makeshift motivational speech. On Sunday, I stayed in my apartment all day, pretending I had homework. That's right. I subjected myself to my mother and my mother alone for a full day because I was so confused.

So now Sam was probably furious with me. After all, I had been avoiding her for almost two days. I didn't know what I could say to make it better.

Then, I saw Carly come in through the front doors of the school. She walked towards me and her locker, but she didn't open it. She turned and looked straight at me with a serious expression on her face. "You and Sam kissed," she said, her voice practically emotionless. I had no idea what she was feeling or how to react.

"She told you?" I whispered.

"No, I saw the whole thing. Through the window."

"Are you mad or what? Because she kissed me," I said, defending myself.

"Yeah, I saw that," Carly replied. "And no, I'm not mad. Just kind of shocked. And disappointed in you, Freddie Benson."

"What? Why?"

"You've been avoiding her for almost two days! She put her heart on the line, and you kind of stomped on it!"

"No! I didn't stomp on it. I just... ignored it."

"Like that's any better. You still can't live without your heart, crushed or not. Listen... Sam isn't a sensitive, girly girl, but she still gets hurt. It took her so much to express her feelings to you. You've got to at least give her an honest reply. So, you don't like her back. At least tell her that in person."

"I never said I didn't like her back."

At that, Carly's mouth dropped open. She threw her arms around me. "Well, that's even better! I knew it, I knew you guys were meant to be together!"

"Whoa, we're getting a little ahead of ourselves there!" I said, gently breaking away from her hug.

That's when I heard a tiny sound from behind me. I spun around and looked into the wide eyes of Sam, staring at us. "Guess that's why you didn't kiss back," she said, softly.

"What? No, Sam!" I cried. Great. Just what I needed: a terrible misunderstanding.

She was already at the front door. I wasn't one to skip school or break the rules, but first period was going to have to wait today. Something was a little more important. I raced to the door and pulled it open, running after her. She was fast, but even Sam wouldn't run out into oncoming traffic. She was at the crosswalk when I caught her.

Sam looked at me and made a move to start running again, but I grabbed her by the shoulder and stopped her. "Please, Sam, stop running."

"Listen, Freddie. It's okay. You go be happy with Carly. I don't care."

"If you don't care, then why are you running away from me?"

"I... I just remembered that I forgot to change Frothy's water. It'll just take a second. No big deal." Sam is usually a good liar, but today she's just pathetic. That means she must be really upset and out of it.

"No, this isn't about your cat. This is about you and me."

"There isn't a you and me," she said, and her voice was so sad and serious that she barely seemed like Sam.

"What you saw at the lockers... Carly and I are not together or anything like that. We were talking. She saw us at the lock-in, and she told me that I had to talk to you. That's when I said that I... That I liked you back."

"You do?"

"Yeah. I wasn't sure at the time, and I was really surprised, but underneath all of that... I like you too, Sam. And I'm sorry that I ran away from you."

"And I'm sorry for running away from you too," Sam said, smiling softly. She glanced up at me through her blond bangs, a little shyly. "So... Are you going to kiss me?"

"Maybe," I said, grinning. Then I leaned into her and our lips met softly. This was the first kiss that I felt like I was truly in control. The first I was so nervous and unsure of what to do, and during the second kiss I was so surprised I couldn't even react, but this one felt perfect. A few seconds later, I pulled back and smiled at her. "So, Groovy Smoothie after school?" I asked.

"It's a date," she said.

We started to walk towards school, and I slipped my hand into hers. She looked at it and said, "Not so fast."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think the whole world needs to know. At least, not yet."

"You mean, the whole world doesn't need to know that SAM PUCKETT AND FREDDIE BENSON ARE IN LOVE?" I shouted. I turned a few heads from the people outside the houses we passed. They stopped and stared, but I honestly didn't care.

She hit me on the arm, but more lightly than she ever had before. I think I was liking this change. It would certainly lead to fewer bruises.

**Thanks a bunch for reading! So, Freddie's flashback was a bit like an iOMG sequel, although I really doubt that that's what is going to happen. I just thought it was sort of cute. Please write a review if you liked the story. Suggestions and ideas for future chapters are definitely welcome. Thank you!**


	4. Chapter 4

Present, Sam's POV

"Really? You want to see _Zombie Cannibals?_ I heard that _Three Weddings_ was pretty good. For a chick flick," says Alex Harrington as we wait in line at the ticket booth. Today he's all fidgety, hands tucked in his jeans. He runs his hand through his blond hair nervously.

"You actually want to see a chick flick?" I ask, eyebrows raised.

"Well... I want to see it more than a senseless gore fest."

"So, you're a guy who's not into blood and guts. Well, that's a disappointment."

"Truth is... I'm really not into horror movies. They kind of freak me out. Usually they're pretty hackneyed and awful anyway," says Alex. He slips his hand into mine. "So, let's see something else. Please?"

I look into his green eyes. They're wide and puppy-dog-ish, but I don't give in. "Nope. It's _Zombie Cannibals_ or nothing."

He sighs. "You're lucky I like you so much, or I'd walk out right now."

My stomach turns at that. This is our third date, after a coffee shop and a concert. I like him, certainly. He's nice and smart and a great musician. He even wrote me a song, which was pretty sweet. But I'm not so sure if I _like _like him yet. He kissed me after the concert, and I didn't feel anything. However, it was just a half-second peck, so I can't draw a fool-proof conclusion at this point. I feel obligated to at least give him a chance.

We make it to the front ticket booth and Alex says, "Two tickets to... _Zombie Cannibals_."

Silently, the man behind the counter slides across two ticket stubs. We pocket them and head over to the snack counter. For food, I get two large Peppy Colas, a package of Reese's pieces, a large popcorn, and some junior mints. I brought some bacon from the college cafeteria with me as well, which I rolled up in a napkin in my purse. You just never know when the bacon mood could strike.

Alex finds us seats near the back row of the theater towards the middle. We got here early, so very few people are seated so far. As the minutes slip past, more arrive and soon the theater is nearly full.

It's still about ten minutes to show time, so Alex starts talking. "Let's play a game. A questions game. We just take turns asking, to get to know each other better."

"Okay," I say. I just hope he doesn't ask anything too personal.

"I'll go first. So... favorite color?"

"Brown." At his surprised expression, I say, "It's the color of bacon."

"That explains it."

"What's your favorite TV show?" I ask

He pauses before deciding, "Doctor Who. Yeah, I'm kind of a sci-fi nerd." Then, he asks, "Favorite class in school?"

"Lunch," I reply. "Second favorite would be music composition right now. I don't know... it's just fun."

He nods. "Mr. Ward is a great teacher. Speaking of... I'm going to be presenting that song I wrote for you as our next assignment. You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not. It's a great song." Next, I ask him, "Worst date you ever had?"

He laughs and says, "Okay, I'll tell you. So, I was eighteen, just graduated high school. In school, I wasn't really cool or anything. I was actually kind of nerdy. There was this girl who I'd always had a crush on, and she asked me if I'd like to go on a date with her. I was really surprised and said yes, of course.

"She was pretty, popular, and she seemed like a cool girl, or so I thought. We went to some restaurant and started talking. When our meals arrived, she started saying, 'You looked a lot cuter through your bedroom window.' I didn't really know what she meant by that, and then she said, 'I hope you don't think this is weird, but when my parents think I'm birdwatching, I was actually watching you with my binoculars.'"

I laugh. Wow, that girl is a total nub.

"By that time, I was getting pretty freaked out, so I tried to escape. I mean, I know it's bad to just leave a date in the middle of dinner, but I was really scared. So, I went to use the bathroom, and then went to the parking lot when I remembered that we had taken her car. I decided to go back in and suffer through the rest of the date. When I got to the door though, she was standing there, glaring at me. Then she burst into tears and started ragging on me for trying to stand her up. I tried to apologize, but soon everyone in the whole restaurant was beating up on me too. Needless to say, the drive back was pretty awkward."

"Well, that's pretty horrible," I say, still laughing a little bit. "It could probably win a worst date Oscar."

"So, tell me yours," Alex prompts.

My eyes widen at that. I feel obligated to answer him truthfully. I could tell him about that strange triple-date where I went with Reuben, the boy of nonsense. But my actual worst date was with the same boy who gave me some of my best as well.

"Okay. So, my former boyfriend and I had been going out for about a month when we went to Chuckie Cheese. We were sixteen at the time, but who doesn't love cheese pizza, arcade games, and plastic tubes? The whole time all the parents there were looking at us really strangely, and some of them even pulled their children away from us. I guess we looked like walking bad influences or something.

"So, after eating a lot of pizza and playing some games, we went into the plastic tubes. I don't think we were even allowed to, but I'm a rule breaker, and I rubbed off on him. Just because, we started making out in one of the slides. That's when a kid went down the slide and kind of pushed us down the slide and out the other end. We were, like, lying on the ground, and the kid was crying because he fell on his butt or something.

"That's when all the people there starting freaking out because it was obvious what we were doing in there. So, this really over-protective parent kind of detained us and called our parents. My ex's mother is a real freak, and she seriously flipped out on us. She grounded him, forbid him to see him. So, that sucked, but we worked it out. Lock-picks do come in handy."

"Wow, that was certainly an interesting date," Alex notes.

"Yeah, it was. Shh! The movie's starting," I say. But I can barely concentrate on the over-the-top gorefest that carries on in front of my eyes. Because I can hardly think of the worst times without remembering the best. Our first date.

* * *

><p>Junior Year, April<p>

"Someone's excited," Carly said, her tone light and teasing. It was my first date with Freddie, and I was so nervous that my hands were actually shaking. Carly pulled a dress out of her closet and held it up to me. "Yeah, this is the outfit."

"No, it's not. I don't need to get all dressed up. We're only going to a movie and TGI Thursday's." I crossed my arms over my chest, stubbornly.

"Come on, Sam, I know this means a lot to you. Don't you want to look your best?"

"Shouldn't people like you even if you don't look your best? Maybe I just want to wear jeans. Maybe I don't care. Maybe I should never have even said yes in the first place."

Carly sighed and grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to sit down beside her on the bed. She looked at me seriously, and went into mother hen mode. "Listen, Sam. I know, you know, everyone knows that you do care. You like Freddie. Fine, don't wear the dress, but don't pretend that you don't care about this date at all because you do." She paused and then added, "I just want you to be happy, Sam. It's going to go fine."

"All right, I'll wear the stupid dress," I groaned, snatching it out of her hand.

After putting on Carly's green dress, brushing my hair, and slicking on some pink lip gloss, I decided that I was ready as I'd ever be. Even Carly approved. Freddie had arrived a few minutes earlier and was waiting downstairs. I took a deep breath and walked down the stairs into Carly's living room. He was sitting on her couch, looking the way he always did except with a nicer, button-down shirt. I sighed and stepped into the room.

"Wow, Sam, you look—"

"Shut it, nub. Don't make this awkward."

He hardly reacted. "Um, okay. Not how I pictured our first date starting... So, shall we get going?" Freddie asked, still smiling. Why was he smiling? How could he ignore my terrible attitude and jerkiness? I shook my head in an effort to clear it.

Freddie drove us to the movie. It was some sci-fi action flick that got good reviews. He chose it, of course. I was far more interested in _Shriek 7_, but he was paying so I eventually gave in. We got in just as the movie was starting, so we barely talked. He didn't try to put his arm around me or anything, which I thought was a relief. I don't think I wanted to go there in public just yet.

It was actually a great film, except it was pretty confusing. I ate about three-quarters of our jumbo butter popcorn and felt kind of stuffed afterward, but TGI Thursday's was one of my favorite restaurants, so I ordered a plate of chicken fingers anyway.

"What did you think of the movie?" asked Freddie, making polite conversation.

I tried to get comfortable in my chair. Why was I feeling so awkward? I should be happy. I've wanted this for months, whether I'll admit it or not. Maybe it was because we were sitting at one of those two-person tables reserved for cute, young couples and I was getting stressed out. Or maybe I was just being paranoid because I felt like everyone was watching us.

"It was good," I said. "For a nerd movie."

"Must you? No one's forcing you to be here. In case you forgot, you're the one who kissed me in the first place. You're the one who wanted this, Sam. So why do you keep making this so hard?" He was finally angry, and it was a relief in some way.

"I don't know. Can you just stop pestering me?" I said, awkwardly.

"People are staring."

"Whatever. I don't care."

Our food arrived then. The waitress gave us some very strange looks as she set our plates down, judging us. We begin eating in silence. I dipped my chicken in barbeque sauce and chewed slowly as I watched Freddie slowly eat his Alfredo pasta.

"I guess..." I began softly. "That I'm acting this way because I don't know any other way. I don't know, I've never learned how to be loved. So I'm on the defensive because... maybe I don't think I'm ready for it. You know, love. I'm scared, actually. I don't want to get hurt."

Freddie looked sad all of a sudden. Like he was pitying me. I didn't like it, but at least he understood. "Sam..."

"It's okay."

"You know, I wouldn't... hurt you. I wouldn't dream of it."

"But how do I know you're telling the truth? Up till a few days ago, you still thought I hated you. Is your mind magically changed? You don't just fall in love overnight. I know that."

"I sure as hell didn't fall in love overnight, Sam. If you only knew... But I didn't want to say anything. I honestly didn't think I could because I was too scared to see what you'd do. You should've given me a hint. Then it wouldn't have taken this long."

I didn't reply, but I felt a weight lifted deep inside of me. He really felt that way? The rest of our dinner went more smoothly. We talked about the most random things: iCarly skits, homework, TV shows, pickles.

We drove home, still talking. I barely insulted Freddie the whole drive. Well, I did, but it was all in a good-natured way.

I stood in the doorway of my apartment. The moon glinted off the streetlights which cast slightly-orange pools on the sidewalk. This was it. The goodbye kiss, I kept thinking. He was as close to me as I could stand.

"Goodbye, Sam," Freddie said, softly. I closed my eyes, separated my lips ever so slightly, and waited for it. I stayed there for a few seconds, before I slit my eyes back open. He was walking away from me. The nerve!

"Aren't you forgetting something?" I shouted after him.

"Um, no?" he said.

"Yep, I'm afraid you are." I walked back to him and looked straight into his eyes. I was too short to do it outright, but I laid my hand at the base of his neck and guided his head down until our lips met. It was soft, sweet, and it felt fitting. "There. You're free to go now."

He laughed. "Yes, I suppose I did forget something. Thank you for reminding me."

"Anytime."

* * *

><p>Present<p>

"I'll see you later, then?" Alex asks.

I glance up at him, snapping out of my daydream. "Yeah. See you tomorrow in class." I pause before adding, "Thanks for sticking through _Zombie Cannibals _with me."

"Thank you for not noticing that my eyes were closed for half the movie."

"They were?"

He changes the subject. "So, I think it's only fair that I choose our next venue. I was thinking something along the lines of... the beach. I hear that it'll be warm next week."

"Sounds lovely," I say because it does. Because it's not Alex's fault that he's not Freddie, or the idealized version of Freddie from my memories. It's not his fault that he doesn't always say the things I wish he did because he's not the same person. He says what he wants, and I can only imagine what Freddie would say if he was here. But he's not. He's in California, and he's not coming. I have to move on. I have too.

"See you tomorrow," says Alex, leaning into me lightly. He leaves a soft kiss on my lips. I smile at him afterward as he disappears down the dorm room hallway. It was a nice kiss, that couldn't be denied. But I wasn't left reeling. I was left wishing he wasn't the one who was here. And I was feeling terrible about it.

**Author's Note: Thanks a lot for reading! I'm having a lot of fun writing this story, so I hope you enjoy it too. I'd like to thank SeddierFTW and Kpfan72491 for being such faithful readers and reviewing every chapter, as well as EmoGleek. This chapter isn't my favorite, but I'm really excited for the next one. It has Sam contemplating her relationship with Alex in a (hopefully) funny way and a flashback to what happened at prom which is pretty emotional. I can't wait to write it (after I write my English essay). Sorry for keeping Sam and Freddie apart for so long, but they will meet again in the chapter after the next one. Stay tuned, and please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

Present, Sam's POV

I love my boyfriend. At least, I love having him. I love being able to say, "Yep, that's mine." It feels good when I do, because he's cute and sweet and treats me really well. I like to have people look at the two of us and approve, something I used to absolutely hate. Actually, i fact, I like a lot of things about him.

His eyes are the prettiest shade of green, vibrant and clear. He never gets upset and always knows what to say when I'm having a bad day. He plays guitar and piano beautifully and writes great songs, sometimes about me. He doesn't rush things. He always listens.

But there are some things I can't stand about him.

He's really technical. It's always about mechanics and numbers, not emotions or feelings. We have completely different tastes in movies and TV shows. He'd rather read a book or listen to music than go to a party. Sometimes he's too nice, too polite. He's never spontaneous. He always asks, "Hey, can I go to second base right now?" and "Do you like surprise parties?" Yeah, it's not exactly a surprise anymore, genius.

Yes, Alex Harrington is a great guy. I like him a lot, but it's just not... It's not perfect. And I don't want to settle for less.

Today, Alex and I decided to go out to lunch together. We drove to a nice cafe with outdoor tables. It's nearly summer and a light breeze plays with my hair as I pore over the laminated menu. I decide on a ham sandwich and lemonade. He orders fish and chips and a Peppy Cola.

"So..." Alex says, "we've been going out for five months now." I nod once. "I think it's coming up on that time. I mean, we've made a pretty big commitment to each other. I think we need to discuss former partners."

I freeze, and my stomach flip-flops. Surely I didn't hear him right. "Former partners?" I ask. My voice sounds strained and high-pitched. I swallow hard and try to look natural while I anxiously twist a long strand of hair around my finger. It's a nervous habit of mine.

"Yes. I mean, sexual partners. After all, STDs are not on either of our to-do lists. It's okay, no need to be embarrassed." He offers what's supposed to be a comforting smile, but it fails.

"I... I mean..."

"Are you not ready? Are you saving yourself for marriage?" he asks, sensitively. We've never discussed anything this serious before.

Now, I'm getting really freaked out. Did he really just bring up marriage? "N-no, I'm not," I manage to reply. "I'm just... surprised. This kind of came out of nowhere."

"It did?"

"It's fine. It's fine, Alex."

"Well, we have to do this sometime. It's better safe than sorry." He pauses before continuing, "I guess I'll start then. When I was seventeen, my high school girlfriend and I both had sex for the first time. Don't worry, we used protection. It wasn't, like, a regular thing, you know. Just now and then. We broke up a few months later."

I'm feeling slightly sick now. The waitress comes back with my lemonade and Alex's soda. I gulp down some of my drink, trying to clear my head. When she leaves, Alex continues. "Over the summer, I was kind of rebounding. I did it with two random girls. We used protection, but it's not something I'm proud of. I wish it didn't happen. I'm a better man now."

I nod, trying to think of what I'm going to say to him.

"I also had a girlfriend freshman year here. We were careful. I'm quite confident that I'm free of any diseases, but I just want to be up front with you."

"Um... thank you for telling me."

"So, I definitely don't think you'd purposely endanger me or anything like that. But I'd really like if you'd be honest about your past encounters."

"Of course. I..." Trailing off, I wonder what to say. Now I'm feeling scared. Compared to Alex, well compared to practically everyone in college, I'm nearly a virgin. I don't want him to know. So I make it up. "I'm sorry, but I can't tell you everything. It's hard for me to even count. I mean, there was Freddie, Reuben, Brad, Pete, Jonah, and this one guy... I can't remember his name. And that was just high school." Realistically, only one of the above is true.

Alex's eyes are wide. I think I've really fooled him. I smile at him. "We were careful, for the most part. Although there was that one time..."

"Um, no offense, Sam... But I think we need to wait a little. At least until you take an STD test. We need to be cautious here." But it's not just that, I can tell. I turned out to be a completely different girl than he thought. Maybe that will hold him off for a little until I know exactly what he means to me and what I need to do.

* * *

><p>May, Senior Year<p>

"You look perfect, Sam," said Carly. I adjusted the skirt of my knee-length violet dress and pushed my bangs into place. Carly had twisted my hair up into a complex, curly up-do that would surely come undone by the night's end. Butterflies had been invading my stomach for the past hour, making it impossible to eat anything. I was starving, but I knew it would be unwise to digest anything at this moment in time.

"Look who's talking," I replied, grinning at my friend. She was wearing a floor-length, billowy blue dress studded with rhinestones and had straightened her long hair into a perfect sheet of brown. However, Carly's best accessory was her broad, unfading smile. This was one thing that could not be bought at the store, and one that my own face was currently lacking.

"He'll love it," she said, gesturing towards my dress and hugging me tightly. "Tonight is going to be perfect."

I frowned because I knew tonight would be anything but. The decision had been weighing on me for weeks. I knew what had to be done, what I had to tell Freddie. More than anything, I did want tonight to be everything from the movies and more, but it couldn't be. Life isn't like the movies, after all.

After one last glance in the mirror, Carly and I made our grand entrance in her living room. I wobbled slightly in my heels. They were only two-inches but still hard to balance in. Somehow, Carly managed in four inch stilettos.

Freddie and Carly's date, Luke Kramer, were both sitting on Carly's couch. They looked slightly uncomfortable in their rented tuxedos, but I couldn't help but smile when I saw Freddie. His light purple corsage was a perfect match to the shade of my dress.

"Sam, you look beautiful," he said, softly. He stood up to meet me and gently took my hand. I remembered back when I wouldn't even let him compliment me, but now I accepted it. We'd both changed along the rough road we'd forged.

"Thank you," I said.

That's when Spencer burst into the room, a fancy camera hanging around his neck. "Pictures! Time for prom pictures!" he cried excitedly. "I can't believe it. My little sister is really growing up." He put his arm around Carly's shoulders. She looked a bit embarrassed, but she beamed anyway.

"Okay, Carly and Luke, stand over there by the door," directed Spencer. Dutifully, the couple stood together. Luke placed his arms around Carly's waist in the classic "prom pose." The two had been dating on and off for several years. Prom just happened to be one of the 'on' times.

Spencer took a few nice, elegant snapshots before turning to us. "Freddie and Sam, your turn."

We took Carly and Luke's place by the door. Freddie started to reach around me as Luke had done, but I gently pushed his hands away. We weren't traditional after all. Instead, I slipped my arms around his neck, and leaped into his arms. Freddie laughed, and Spencer took a few shots of him carrying me. Then he captured a few of us giving each other bunny ears and another of us leaning against each other's backs.

"Great. Very Seddie," said Spencer, checking the pictures on the camera's screen.

I glared at him. "I told you, I don't like that term."

"What? It's cute. Just like the two of you."

We both rolled our eyes. "Cute," said Freddie. "Really? Is being constantly beat up on and physically harmed cute?"

"It is when you _love _each other," Spencer said.

Carly and Luke smiled at each other, knowingly. They were used to this. "Come on, guys, stop with all this mushy stuff. Let's get going," I said. "The limo's waiting."

About half an hour later, our ride arrived at the hotel where prom was being held. I took a deep breath, breathing in the moment. This was supposed to be monumental, special. This was senior prom. I was never a romantic girl, dreaming about the glittery, poofy princess gown I would wear and the Prince Charming that I would go with, but the moment still got to me. This was it.

We stepped inside the ballroom where the party was happening. The music was a heavy and thumping dance version of the biggest pop hit of the year. The heavy bass made my head feel like it was ringing to the beat. Freddie and I weren't the hugest fans of dancing, so we started by the refreshment table. I needed something to eat to quell my nerves. Somehow, I'd found my stomach again on the drive over. I placed a few small cookies on my plate and poured a glass of red fruit punch.

After collecting our food, Freddie and I strolled in between the tables in search of place to sit. A few sophomore girls from yearbook raced around the room taking picture after picture. They were obviously trying to impress the upperclassmen that dominated the area with their thick layers of makeup and far-too brightly colored dresses. Weaving our way through the crowd, the two of us found a rather secluded table. Freddie and I set down our plates and took a seat.

"So this is it," Freddie said. "Prom. That magical, amazing night from all the movies."

"Except for _Prom Night_ which involves losing all your friends to a murderer. Let's hope our night doesn't go like that."

"Yes," he agreed, smiling at me. "That would definitely be a terrible prom."

I knew I would have to tell him what I had to say eventually. I'd been planning how it would go for days. So finally I opened my mouth, but when I did I forgot everything I was planning. I just said, "So, I got a scholarship."

"That's awesome. What school?"

"Berklee."

"Oh, in Boston," he said, softly. "Because I got a scholarship to Stanford. You know, in California." He frowned and moved his food around on his plate.

I already knew about the scholarship. I had been looking through his mail a few weeks ago for a magazine to read and saw the opened letter. That was why for weeks I had tried to avoid the topic of college. Because I didn't want to talk about it.

"Well... we could always..." he began.

"Please, Freddie. You know that I care about you. Much as I've denied it in the past, I really, truly do. But I just don't see a long-distance relationship working in our favor. They never end well. I've been thinking about this for a long time. The hypothetical. I don't want to hold you back. I want you to be happy. Find your California girl and whatever."

The words had burst out. Not calm and collected, but nervous and strained. Everything was going wrong. I didn't want to say this, but I felt that I had to. My heart stuttered in my chest, and I felt miserable.

"Sam. Where is this coming from?" His eyes were searching me. He looked so sad, so hurt.

"Just life. People grow apart. Do you expect us to stay in love for four years or more of barely seeing each other? We're just kids."

"We'll have summers."

"Come on, Freddie. We're eighteen. We weren't supposed to last forever."

There it was. The cynical me from tenth grade who'd scoffed at the sight of teenage love stories and despised romantic comedies. The girl I'd thought had changed, had come to believe. But I was only hiding. I remained a skeptic, still too scared to put my faith in anyone.

"But I lo—"

"Please don't say it. It doesn't have to be this hard. Let's just walk away while we have the chance." I looked down at my lap. I shouldn't be crying. That wasn't part of the plan. I hoped he didn't see as I wiped away the stray tear. My mascara was smearing. Damn.

"Prom night? Prom night is your chance? This was supposed to be the happiest night of our lives."

"And where did you hear that?"

He sighed loudly. "I just wanted today to be happy," he admitted.

"It's our last night," I said. "We can make it a good one. Let's pretend like this didn't happen. Let's have one more happy time." Then I stood up from my chair and kissed him lightly on the lips. I led him onto the dance floor.

There was a slow song playing. The kind that people cry to while hidden under sheets and darkness. There was no sheet, but there were only strobe lights and disco balls lighting up the room. So I let myself. Just a few more tears.

He put his hands on my waist, pulling me in gently, and I laced mine around his neck. We swayed to the beat. Neither of us knew the first thing about slow dancing, but that wasn't what this was about. We moved in perfect harmony because we always had.

I laid my head on his chest, and he kissed my forehead softly. I felt a tiny tear drip down. He was crying too. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop myself from bawling. I couldn't take back what I said now. I didn't want to hurt him, but I didn't think I ought to hold him back like this. Maybe we weren't meant to be.

"Why are we doing this?" he asked.

"Because we have to."

"No, we don't. I want to be with you."

"If we're supposed to be together, we will be. Just not now," I said.

He slowly lifted my chin so my eyes looked into his. He pressed his mouth against mine. I drank in his taste, his sweetness. "I want you, so badly," he whispered into my ear, lips brushing against it.

"We have tonight," I whispered.

We did it in the room Carly rented. She had given me an extra key. I locked the door behind me. It was the only time in our whole relationship. Not because I was some kind of angel or prude or anything. Maybe it was because it had never felt right. Maybe we were both a little scared. I knew it was wrong as soon as it was over. Because how could that be the right ending? How could that be goodbye? I let him hold me for once more. Then we were finished.

**Author's Note: Thanks a lot for reading this chapter. This one went really fluidly. Don't worry, this is the last chapter of separation and pretty much the end of Alex as well. Sam and Freddie will finally meet again, and it may surprise you where they come together. If you liked it or have any other ideas for flashbacks and such, please leave a review. Special thanks to Kpfan72491, SeddierFTW, EmoGleek, and PhunkyBrewster for the great reviews last chapter! **


	6. Chapter 6

**So, this chapter involves a little time-travel. It's four years later, and Freddie and Sam both been out of college for about three years. Later on, we'll get some more details about what happened during that time.**

Present, Freddie

The first day of school has rolled around again. I remember the love-hate relationship I had with this day when I was in high school. On one end, I was disappointed to lose my free-time and to be bogged down with endless work my teachers handed out like candy. But on the other, I was happy to see the people I didn't hang out with over the summer. When it came down to it, I was kind of a nerd, and the bottom line is that I liked school.

So now I'm a teacher. Yes, a teacher. I didn't see it coming when I was sixteen. Heck, I didn't even think it would happen when I was twenty. But now I'm twenty-five and here now at my old school, Ridgeway High. Last year, I was just a student teacher at another nearby school in one of the outskirts of Seattle, but the old technology teacher at Ridgeway resigned over some sort of scandal involving polygamy. So, I got the job.

The whole school didn't look so much different than it did seven years ago. The computers were a little leaner, more advanced. The artwork was new. Some classes were added, some eliminated. There were a few new teachers, but it was mostly the same. Ms. Briggs and Mr. Howard were still here, along with my favorite teacher, Mr. Thatcher, who teaches Chemistry.

"Good morning, Ms. Briggs," I say as I pass her on my way to my classroom. My classroom. It still hasn't sunk in yet. Right now it's 7:20, about ten minutes before the school bells ring, indicating the start of the day.

She stops right in her tracks and stares at me over her glasses. She looks exactly the same. The difference is the expression on her face that she fixes on me. "Freddie Benson?"

"Yes, that's me," I reply, trying to sound friendly. I suppose I'll have to make ammends with her, even though we used to despise each other.

"I heard you were hired," she says. Now, she is studying me quite closely, and I feel extremely awkward under her gaze. "You seem different." She walks around behind me. "Maybe it's just because you're not sucking that Puckett girl's face anymore."

At my strained expression, she backtracks. "Oh, you didn't marry her, did you?"

"What? No."

"No? So... you're single?"

"Um, yes."

"Listen, Benson, I'm not your teacher anymore." She eyes me again. "But I could be. I'm quite experienced, if you know what I mean."

"Ms. Briggs—"

"Please, call me Francine."

"Francine, thank you for the offer, but... I need to prepare for class. You know, it's the first day and all. I'll see you around some time." With that, I slip into my classroom and let out a sigh of relief. That was quite possibly the most uncomfortable few minutes of my entire existence. I try to sort through my papers and to concentrate on what my first lesson plans will be. Usually, the first day of school is a bit of a wash. Mostly, it's just a recap of the rules and introducing the general curriculum.

First period is actually a planning period for me. I can relax and get all of my work together for my classes. For a few minutes, I sort out of my schedules and handouts. I'm finished far before second period is due to start, so I decide to wander the halls and get a feel for what the school is like again.

I start to wander up the stairs. I remember the crush of students back when it was me changing classes at every bell. It feels so different now that I'm considered to be a professional in this establishment.

One of the classroom doors in the hall hangs open. I figure that I should start introducing myself to the other teachers and getting to know everyone better. Cautiously, I enter the room. When I get inside, I smile because it's none other than Mr. Thatcher's room. The walls are plastered with large posters depicting the periodic table and pictures of some of his favorite scientists.

"Freddie Benson," Mr. Thatcher says with a grin. "I was wondering when we'd meet again."

Mr. Thatcher was young when he taught me, late twenties. He's still young of course, but with a little more maturity in his face. He has neat, dark blond hair and kind brown eyes. Standing up from his desk, Mr. Thatcher claps me on the back.

"You were one of my very favorite students. I always knew you'd make a great teacher," he says.

"Really?" I ask.

"Yes. You have all the elements. Patience, understanding, authority, and most of all, a love for learning and helping others. You're teaching about technology, correct?"

"Yeah, video production and some basic computer programming."

"Perfect fit. So, where did you go to college?"

"Stanford."

"Very impressive. Now, we should catch up since we're going to be colleagues. While you were off being educated, I was married." He shows me his wedding band. "We're expecting a little girl."

"Wow, that's great," I say.

"And you?"

"Oh, I'm single right now. You know, I've been very busy with college and such."

"I don't mean to pry... But you and Samantha Puckett were so close when you attended Ridgeway. In fact, this embarrasses me, but I became a bit invested in the two of you. What happened between you two?"

"We... Well, we broke up before school ended. She went to Berklee, and long-distance relationships can be so difficult. It was just the best decision for both of us."

"I know you didn't ask for advice, but I'm a bit of a sage at heart. Sometimes the best decisions aren't about what's easy or convenient. Sometimes they're hard, but if you're willing, they're still the correct ones to make."

I shake my head. "Um, thanks. But it's over and done with. I don't even know where she is." That's when the school bell rings. "Oh, I have to get back to my classroom. I'll see you later, Mr. Thatcher."

"Call me Kent," he replies. "And I think you'll find out where Sam is soon enough."

I want to ask him what he means, but I really need to get to my room. So, I give him a small wave and walk back downstairs.

When I get back to my room, about half of the Video Production students had already arrived. There's a wide variety of students: girls and boys from all grade levels.

"I heard that our teacher was some new guy," says one of the girls. "Hopefully, he's hot. God knows we could use one of them." She reminds me of some of the popular, preppy girls that wouldn't give me the time of day in high school. She's about to continue when her friend gestures towards me, and the girl stops talking.

Shaking my head to clear it, I say, "Hello, class. I'm Mr. Benson, and I'll be your Video Production teacher this year. To start things off, why don't we go around the room and you can give me your name?"

A steady stream of names followed which I doubted I would ever memorize. James, Jacob, John, they all blended into one another. One of the only I remembered was that of the girl who was talking at the start of class, Katie, if only because I was slightly frightened of her.

I passed out a stack of papers listing expectations, rules, and a basic outline of what we'd be learning over the course. Most of the kids were already zoned out, but I didn't know how to make this day any more interesting for them. At last, we finished going over all the things that I was required to repeat.

Deciding that I'd better get my students to like me better, I say, "Well, I'm new here. So, to get to know me better, let's use the last fifteen minutes for any questions."

One girl, Ally or Alice or something, asks, "Where did you go to school?"

I chuckle and answer, "For high school, I actually went here in fact. For college, I went to Stanford and studied video editing and computer programming."

"What year did you graduate?" asks another girl.

"2013," I reply. I can already see the wheels turning in her head. She's thinking, _to the library_, so she can check out my yearbook. I would know, after all, I used to do that too. The difference is I usually looked up my worst teachers just to see how dorky and weird they used to be.

A few mercifully ordinary questions pass. I'm hoping there would be nothing else that felt creepy or violating, but then I call on Katie. She asks, "Are you in a relationship?"

I hear a couple of giggles from around the room, and I feel myself turning slightly hot. I want to say something like 'No comment,' but I know they won't stop asking until I give them a straight answer. "No," I say quickly. "Any other questions?"

With that, the bell rings, and I let out an alleviated sigh. As the students file out the door, I don't feel very good about my first class. I don't know, I just felt awkward and like I'd never be comfortable.

Things will get better, I hope.

* * *

><p>September, Freshman Year of College<p>

"Huh? I told you, I'm not interested in whatever crap you're trying to sell me," said Sam, her voice rough as it traveled over the phone line. "Damn telemarketers," she added under her breath. I could still picture her. She'd be rolling her eyes, picking at her nails, looking bored.

"I'm not a telemarketer," I said.

"Oh," she said.

"Sam, it's me. It's Freddie."

"I know who it is. Did you think I'd forget your voice that easily? It's only been three months." She didn't finish the thought. She meant to say, 'It's only been three months since I ran away to Boston and didn't return a single one of your messages.'

"Sorry... It's just that you didn't react." She still didn't say anything in reply, so I continued, "I just wanted to talk to you again. Find out how you're doing."

"I'm doing fine. School's fine. Everything is fine."

"That's great. That's good to hear." However, I didn't even know if I believed that. Maybe she was fine. She was Sam, after all. Infuriating, crazy, beautiful Sam. She'd probably have a boyfriend already, a band put together, and a million new friends. Her teachers would most likely hate her. They always did. Sam usually gave them good reason. But more likely than not, she was fine; she was happy; she was doing a thousand times better than me.

"And you?" she asked.

"I'm doing... No, I'm not going to sit here and lie to you. The fact is... Sam, I miss you." I hated to hear myself sound so pitiful, so dejected. But that was what I was. I was miserable without her, and I couldn't stand another night of jealous dreams about how wonderfully she was doing.

"What do you want me to do about it? So, you miss me. I don't have a private jet to fly across the country to see you. I have classes and other stuff going on."

"No, that's not what I mean. It's just... Why can't we even talk? We can still be friends at least. Right? We've been friends for years. Why does it all have to end?"

"It all has to end for the same reason this conversation is so awkward. We have nothing to say to each other that hasn't been said. It didn't work out between us. Freddie, it's better if we just drop it. It's over. We've got to move on."

"Sam..."

"I'm sorry, Freddie. Listen, I have to get to class."

Then she hung up. After groaning in frustrated, I glanced over at the clock, which read 8:15 PM. With a quick calculation, I realized that it was past eleven in Boston. Well, I guess she really didn't want to talk to me.

* * *

><p>Present<p>

I taught two mores classes, heard dozens more names, and felt myself growing more and more overwhelmed. At last, lunch time arrived and along with it, reprieve. Our school's lunches were actually not horrific. The salads, soups, and sandwiches were quite tolerable, so I am buying lunch today.

As I calmly stroll down the hallway towards the cafeteria, I notice another teacher walking towards me. The lanyard and attached name tag give her away. She is staring at the ground, seeming to be absorbed in her thoughts. I offer a small wave as we grow closer, but when I'm directly beside her, she freezes in her tracks.

Surprised, I stop as well and look over at her. That's when I realize it. The teacher is Sam Puckett.

**Author's note: Sam? A teacher? Hopefully, you enjoyed that. So, the next day will follow Sam on her first day of school, kind of a parallel to this chapter. If you like it, please take the time to leave a review. Thanks!**


	7. Chapter 7

Sam POV, Present

Never in a million years did I picture myself as a teacher. Me, willingly working at the place I claimed to hate so much? In truth, I didn't despise school quite as strongly as I said. I enjoyed music, lunch (of course), some projects... I actually, grudgingly, liked Science sometimes. It was actually my favorite core class. But still, if someone told me five years ago that this is where I'd end up, I would never have believed them.

Even though I used to have weekly meeting with him to discuss behavioral 'issues', I always knew Principal Franklin actually liked me. Despite this, I was surprised to be hired by him. He must have known I had little patience for children, that I was not one for following the rules, and a thousand other things that would me a less than perfect teacher. However, he called me personally to tell me that I got the job.

I was replacing Mrs. Krall, the former music teacher who was downright ancient. She taught music theory, composition, and also directed the orchestra, which was thankfully not part of my responsibilities. She played violin, and I had a theory that she learned from Mozart himself; she was so old.

When I walked into the school, after wandering through the office, the first person I saw was Mr. Howard, looking exactly the same as he did seven years ago. He promptly froze in his tracks and stared at me. "S-Samantha Puckett?" he asked. I could hear a slight tinge of fear in his voice.

I smiled at him sweetly. "Yes. That's me."

His mouth was moving, trying to make something intelligible come out, but all that escaped was pure silence. "I-I... What are you doing here?" he finally said.

"I'm a teacher. I'm replacing Mrs. Krall, the music teacher."

He was utterly mute before managing to say, "How?"

"Well, I did attend Berklee. I find that some people see that as impressive. I have a degree in music theory and composition, classes that I am teaching. I have done a lot of growing up over these years, Mr. Howard."

I didn't think that he believed me. He looked skeptical. "It's Charles. We're on equal footing now, I suppose." He started to walk away from me at that point. "But I still don't trust you. I've got my eye on you, Puckett."

"Please, call me Sam," I said in a sugary tone. "We're colleagues now."

He seemed to pick up the pace as he power walked away from me. I laughed and shook my head. This was too fun. Then, I started my journey towards the room that I would be occupying. I couldn't quite wrap my head around the fact that it was mine.

On the way, I ran into Mr. Rohrer, who was the band director. He had a gigantic mouth, probably perfectly suitable for playing the tuba and trombone and such. He welcomed me and seemed nice. However, I think I frightened him a little when I randomly pulled a strip of beef jerky out of my bag and started munching on it while he described his conducting style or some other boring chiz. I bade him goodbye and went into my room.

My first class was Composition 1, which focused on song construction, song writing, chord progressions, and a little bit of recording with GarageBand on the school laptops. This was the class I was most excited to teach. I knew that my teaching style was going to be a lot more relaxed and creative than other teachers, and I hoped that the kids would like me. Also, I hoped they would look at me as more than just a teacher, but a mentor and friend.

A short while later, the bell rang. Our school bell was a loud, annoying gong-like noise that reverberated through my room and left my head ringing. A slow trickle of students began to enter my room and stand around awkwardly, probably because the desks were pushed against the walls and impossible to sit in.

"Drop your bags by the wall," I said. "Go ahead and sit on the rug in the back." The kids looked at each other, surprised, and they complied. Four minutes later, the bell rang again, annoying my ears. I walked back to the rug where the students were situated. I had about fifteen kids in my class, which was pretty tiny, but for what we were doing, it was better to have a smaller amount. I joined the students on the floor.

"So, first question, what tone does the school bell ring at?"

One boy raised his hand and said, "B-flat."

"Nice. Perfect pitch?"

"Yeah," he replied. "I've been playing piano since I was three. I can learn a song by ear just by listening to it once."

"Okay, no need to brag," I said. He looked slightly offended, but he was getting a little ego-centric for my tastes. "I think we should ignore the rules because we all know them. Let's start by talking about our music experience. Tell me what instruments you play, for how long, favorite type of music, stuff like that. Why don't you start?" I asked the boy that had replied to my first question.

"I'm Max Ericson. I've played piano for thirteen years and cello for ten. I take private lessons for both. I despise modern music. I prefer the classics. You know, Bach, Beethoven, Brahams. I'm taking this class because I'd like to write some orchestral pieces for my string quartet. Also, I'd like to see if I could write better lyrics than the crap on the radio. I'm pretty sure I can."

I stared at Max. I seriously hoped that the whole class wasn't like this.

Next, a girl with long brown hair spoke. "Hi, my name is Lily Milhouse. I started guitar three years ago. I know I'm probably not that experienced compared to the others, but I just really love playing. I've also written a couple of songs, but I'm not sure if they're that good. My favorite music is generally more acoustic, softer. I just hope I can get some more help to improve my music."

The other kids went on introducing themselves like this. They could all play some type of instrument and most of them liked to sing too. I was getting pretty excited to help them along. I also asked them whether they planned to pursue music as a career. A few replied with a definitive yes.

Lily, however, said, "Well, that's my dream, but I... Well, it doesn't seem very likely. I'd probably be better off going to school for business or whatever so I had something to fall back on. I mean, no offense, but I don't want to end up as a music teacher."

"Let me tell you guys something," I said, feeling I ought to explain how I ended up here anyway. "I hated school. I never wanted to be a teacher. Really, I wanted to lay around the house and eat bacon all day."

They looked at me with strange expressions. Yes, I was not their typical teacher.

"But if I had to get a job, I knew that I wanted to play music. I love to play guitar. I wanted a band. I had two, though we were never very good or popular. Then I thought maybe I should be a songwriter because I loved that too, and I was never with a shortage of things to write about. That didn't work out too well either. I sold a song or two to some people, but they ended up not being released or on the cutting room floor. I knew I had better get my act together, so here I am. I know I'm living proof that the music industry is hard and kind of sucks. But I really want to help you guys to succeed. Teaching isn't failure for me because I know that I'm going to find someone really talented one day, and I'll be able to assist them. That's what I want. So, don't give up before you've even tried."

Class was nearly over at that point, so I passed out a packet of some basic concepts that we were going to cover. Then, the bell rang, and they started to file out the door again. Lily was the last one out, and she turned to me and said, "I have a feeling that I'm going to like this class."

"I hope you do," I replied. I thought I would too.

* * *

><p>Junior Year, February<p>

"So, you didn't forget my birthday?" asked Freddie. It was a cool February evening, and we were walking down the sidewalk towards my apartment from Carly's place. We had just finished his party, a pleasant affair with cake, balloons, and presents. Presents from everybody but me, but I hadn't forgotten.

"No. Why would I forget?"

"You forget lots of things. You forget to pay me back when I lend you money. You forget to go to all your doctor's appointments, or so you say. It may be on purpose. You forget to feed your cat sometimes. Is forgetting my birthday so much of a stretch?"

"I don't forget important things," I said, blushing a little at how cheesy that sounded. "I definitely got you something. It's at my apartment."

He smiled and slipped his hand in mine. "Don't take this the wrong way, but... Is your mom there? I mean, there's only so much crazy I can take. You're enough of a fix."

"No, she's visiting some Italian guy she met on eHarmony. He lives out of town, an hour away or something like that. They seem to get along well." I said this with a rather sour expression. "He's really sketchy in my opinion."

"Well, that's good. I mean, not the sketchy Italian guy. That we'll be alone. No mother randomly wearing a bikini wandering around."

I nodded, hoping he wasn't getting the wrong idea. "I hope you like my gift. I mean, I worked really hard on it. It took a lot of work."

"Sam Puckett? Putting hard work into something for me? I feel honored."

"You should be."

Finally, we arrived at my apartment. It wasn't as nice or clean as Carly and Freddie's, but he was used to it. I grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. I waved at my doorman, but he was asleep. Quietly, we walked past him and got in the elevator and rode it up to my floor. After turning the key, we stepped into the room. I motioned towards the couch for Freddie to get comfortable. "Wait for me a second," I said, disappearing into my bedroom.

When I came out a few minutes later, my guitar was strapped over my shoulder and guitar pick was in hand. "Happy birthday, Freddie," I said.

I sat down in the chair opposite him and began picking out a simple melody that rang through the room. Then, I opened my mouth and let my lyrics sing out. He watched me closely, brown eyes fixed on mine as I sang directly to him. I'd written the song a few weeks ago and knew that I wanted to share it with him. Actually, I had never performed one of my own songs for Freddie, especially not one about him. But this one I had to.

"You know it's true, that I'll love you... Until we fall apart," I sang, the final lines.

Freddie looked at me right in the eyes and said, "That was the most beautiful song I've ever heard."

"You're exaggerating," I said.

"Hardly," he said. "Maybe it wasn't the best song ever written, but you wrote it for me. That's why it's my favorite. Thank you, Sam. I think that's the best present I've ever gotten."

* * *

><p>Present<p>

My other classes went relatively smoothly as well. After introducing myself to the Music Theory kids and wasting time surfing the Internet during my planning period, lunch time arrived. My favorite time of day. I fished my wallet out of my desk drawer and practically skipped towards the door and the school's French fries and ham.

As I walked down the hallway, I spotted Ms. Briggs. She fixed me with an evil glare, and I glared right back. I forgot that I was trying to act like I had changed. She was simply too repulsive to behave nicely towards. However, I started to stare at the ground after I finished passing her. I was hoping that she wouldn't make my life here too miserable. She did hate me after all.

I was nearly there when I looked up again. That's when I saw him. That's when I heart dropped out of my chest, my breath stopped, and I simply stared. It was Freddie Benson, standing directly beside me.

**Author's Note: Hope you like this one! So, next chapter we'll see how Sam and Freddie react to finally meeting again. Honestly, I'm not entirely sure what will happen yet. Please review and make suggestions. Thanks!**


	8. Chapter 8

"Sam."

"Freddie."

I stared at her, my eyes drinking in her face. Surely, she was a mirage, likely to disappear as soon as I averted my gaze. There was simply no way that Samantha Puckett could be here of all places. Not after seven years. Not after everything that had happened. I had finally accepted that she had wandered out of my life, unlikely to ever return. Yet here she was in front of me.

She looked different, though still eminently recognizable. Her hair was shorter, a little more tame. Her clothing was more mature and more grown-up, with less personality than I remembered. Of course, she seemed a bit older, but I could still see the girl I'd known reflected in her blue eyes, which were identical to those in my memory.

"Sam," I repeated, still dumbstruck.

"Yes, you've said that already," she said. She glanced away from me and towards the ground, her brow furrowed in confusion. She wasn't expecting to see me any more than I was expecting to see her. "I didn't think I'd see you... here. I mean... it's been so long."

"That's what I was thinking," I replied, finally gaining control of my tongue. I was at last able to communicate with a word other than her name. "You're a teacher?"

"Yes. Music," she said. I smiled as my ears absorbed the sound of her voice. I'd gone without for so long. "I know, I'm surprised too." Her eyes flitted down the hallway. "Well, it's lunch time. As I would say before, mama's hungry. I'll see you later." Then she started her path down the hallway, her heels clicking on the floor. She was so different. She was wearing high-heels for god's sake! I wanted to call after her, but I didn't. I would have time later, after all. We were working together now it seemed.

After composing myself, I walked down the hall as well to acquire my own lunch. I still felt in a daze as I pulled open the cafeteria door and collected my food. I was so distracted that I put a slice of pizza, a ham sandwich, iced tea, barbeque sauce, and French dressing on my tray. The lunch lady gave me a rather odd look, but I still didn't understand what was so strange about my food choices until I returned to the faculty room.

"Interesting meal," Sam noted as I set my tray down on one of the tables. She was sitting a table away with her pizza and flavored water bottle.

"Yes..." I said, wrinkling my brow. Where was I supposed to put this dressing? I spread some on my sandwich, to look like I had planned on picking it up. A few bites later, I realized that the combination wasn't so bad at all.

"Hello, Freddie," said Mr. Thatcher, a minute later as he entered the room with his tray. He placed it down beside me and turned to Sam. "Hello, Sam." He took a bite of his turkey sub before saying, "What are the odds? Two of my favorite students joining this school as teachers the very same year?"

"Long odds," said Ms. Briggs suddenly from another nearby table. Her salad looked barely touched. "But not as long as the odds for them both surviving a year at this school."

"Why do you say that?" Mr. Thatcher asked.

"Well, look at them. So inexperienced, so young. If our school has to make some cuts, they'll be the first to go," she replied, an evil grin on her face.

"That's an valid point," Sam said, her old fire creeping in again. "but I'd think that someone as old and decrepit as you would be pretty likely to go as well. I mean, you and Mr. Howard are as old as Freddie and I are young."

Ms. Briggs gave her a poisonous look. "You know, Puckett, there are certain rules about teacher behavior. I have a feeling what you just said to me is frowned upon, as well as what you are doing with Benson after hours. I wouldn't want anyone higher-up to find out about that."

"You can't prove anything," she said. "Besides that, Freddie and I haven't spoken in seven years. We aren't doing anything that's 'frowned upon'."

"That's what she said," muttered Ms. Briggs under her breath.

Sam and I stared at her before we resumed eating our food. Ms. Briggs was one strange old lady, that was for sure.

* * *

><p>"Sam is here! She's at the school!" I said to Carly over the phone, as I nervously paced my apartment. By saving all of the money I'd ever owned, I succeeded in acquring a place away from my mother. It wasn't that I didn't love her... But if I could help it, I would never live in the same home with her for one more day. Didn't I deserve that after eighteen years of near torture?<p>

"Sam didn't say anything about working at the school," Carly said, quietly. "I mean, she came by a few days ago for a visit. I knew she had a job in Seattle, but I didn't know it was at Ridgeway. I wonder why she didn't tell me."

"Probably it's because she's embarrassed or something. I mean, Sam is a teacher now."

"Maybe that's it... Have you talked to her at all?"

"Well, yeah. When we first saw each other, I was basically speechless at first. She said that she was surprised to see me, but she was hungry and went to lunch. Then she kind of argued with Ms. Briggs. It wasn't pretty."

"That old lady's still there?"

"Yep, as cranky as ever," I replied. "Actually, she kind of tried to hit on me."

"Well, that's disgusting."

"I know, right?"

"But Freddie, you need to talk to Sam. If you're going to be working together, you need to at least get on the same page. Seven years is a long time, but there are still some things you need to work out. Invite her to dinner or something, just so you can catch up. Or maybe all three of us can hang out?"

"You're right. I've missed you too, Carly. I'll ask Sam about it tomorrow at work. Where do you want to meet?"

"How about my apartment? I'm sure Spencer would love to see you guys too. I can catch you guys up on all that went on in Seattle while you were gone. Some crazy stuff went on. You won't believe what happened to Gibby..."

"What?"

"I don't want to spoil anything. You both have to be at my apartment before I'm telling anything. Ask Sam about Saturday night, okay?"

"Okay. See you later, Carly."

"Bye, Freddie."

* * *

><p>June, Junior Year of College<p>

"You miss her still, don't you?" Carly said, softly. We were sitting in on the grass at the old playground we all played at when we were younger. She'd packed a picnic lunch of sandwiches, chips, and soda, and we'd finished eating it. Now, I was seated cross-legged in the soft, emerald grass, staring into space and the blue horizon.

I snapped back to reality and glanced back at Carly. I wanted to deny it. I wanted to say I'd succeeded in moving on, but the truth was that I was sick of lying every single time. "I miss her more than everything." I'd meant anything, but somehow, everything fit even better. Because she was practically all I cared about.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking at the ground, not meeting my eyes. "I asked her to come visit Seattle as soon as Junior year ended, but she said no. I think she knew you'd be here."

"I don't want to force anything. It's fine."

"But this is ridiculous. You guys... you loved each other. I think you still do. I don't know why you can't at least talk to each other and be friends."

"I tried to talk to her. I called her once."

"When?"

I paused, before admitting, "Two years ago."

She looked at me for a long while, then said, "What happened?"

"I... Sam seemed just frustrated, annoyed with me. She said everything was fine. I think she moved on, and I was the only one left wishing we could be together. She said we had nothing left to say to each other, and it was better this way."

"But... Sam isn't like that. She doesn't have a boyfriend, nothing. I would know."

"Maybe she lied. She did to one of us."

"Well, she didn't have a boyfriend two years ago, I know. But I think she does now... Alex or something. He plays guitar and is in some band. We don't really talk about him much, though."

"See? She's completely fine without me. He's probably perfect for her. He sounds it."

"Freddie... I just want things to end up the way they're supposed to. You and Sam, and me and... Kevin."

As soon as she said the name of the boyfriend she told me so much about, I knew something was wrong. The tone of her voice had abruptly changed without warning. "Is something wrong, Carly? Between you two?"

She shrugged and looked unwilling to answer, but she eventually admitted, "I don't know what went wrong. Things were so great. We'd been dating for almost eight months, but then he just seemed... different. He said we needed to take a break or some other stupid excuse like that."

"I'm sorry," I said. Carly looked so deeply hurt. Then I knew that she could at least relate to how I was missing Sam.

"I don't get what went wrong. We were so happy." She paused and looked like she was trying not to cry and then said, "Do you think he was cheating on me? That must be it. But... why? Was it something I did? Freddie, I need your help."

I didn't know how to respond. "Listen, Carly, I don't even know Kevin. I wouldn't know what to say."

"But you're a guy."

"Yeah, but..."

"I need to get him back. I know I sound crazy, but..."

"It's not crazy. I know how you feel, buy you and Kevin go to college together. You'll win him back if you belong together as much as you say. When it comes to me and Sam... Who knows if we'll even meet again?"

"You're right. I don't even touch your feelings." She ran her hands through the grass, then looked at me again. "We're practically a broken heart's club. We should go out somewhere, try to heal. Then, we can go back to feeling sorry for ourselves, but for now, let's just try to forget and be happy."

I hesitated, then nodded. Because everyone knew I could use a little happy right about now.

* * *

><p>Present<p>

It was the next day at school. Only Tuesday, but my life felt immeasurably different from Sunday, just 48 hours ago. I was a teacher. I had students. I had responsibilities. Most of all, Sam had drifted into my orbit once more.

I greeted Sam as I strolled towards the front door. She'd parked her car, a compact purple (probably custom-painted) model, a few spots away from my gray hybrid. "Hey, Sam," I said with a slight wave. It felt so strange to be saying her name again.

"Hello, Frednerd," she replied with a small smirk. Really? She was resorting to childish nicknames now?

I rolled my eyes at her, and she laughed softly. I said, "So, I have a proposal for you."

"This is very sudden. I don't know if I'm ready," she said in mock horror, her blue eyes wide.

"No, it's nothing like that," I said, laughing. "I think we need to catch up, along with Carly. She asked me to invite you to dinner at her house Saturday night. Are you free?"

She paused for a few seconds, racking her brain. "Yeah, nothing except endless amounts of grading and planning. Sounds good."

"Okay, I'll see you then."

"Guess you will."

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. I just got caught up with stuff and didn't feel like editing. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I think the next one will be good and interesting. So, review and I'll probably feel more motivated to get it out faster. Thanks!**


	9. Chapter 9

Present, Sam's POV

I rarely over-thought things. Generally, I was an impulse girl. But tonight, I had found myself pondering my outfit, hair, and makeup for way more than necessary for a simple dinner with friends. Carly had even called to assure me that we were eating spaghetti tacos, and there was no need to dress up. In the end, I looked as I normally did. Green t-shirt, jeans, simple makeup with a swipe of lip gloss, and hardly tamed curls. I chided myself repeatedly as I ran my fingers through my hair once more. This was Carly and Freddie. It wasn't a date. So, why was I taking so much time to make myself look presentable? I pulled myself away from the mirror and forced myself to drive towards her house, along the streets I knew so well.

"Sam!" Carly cried, pulling me into a hug as soon as she saw me in her doorway. "I've missed you so much!" I couldn't help but to grin as she crushed me in a tight embrace. She seemed exactly the same, yet there was something different too.

"We talked yesterday on the phone," I said, stepping inside her apartment. It looked almost identical to when we were teenagers and still filming iCarly. I'd been back to this place since then, but I was still struck by the similarity.

"We talked, but I still haven't seen you in months," Carly said. "Freddie isn't here yet, and Spencer is finishing up the spaghetti tacos." She gestured towards the couch. I remembered sitting there while preparing for iWake up Spencer segments with Freddie in the middle of the night. I remembered watching fan videos and eating endless amounts of meatballs, Fat cakes, and smoothies. It was quite a couch. It'd been through a lot.

Carly and I sat down, but before a second had passed, the doorbell rang. She jumped to her feet to answer it. She hugged Freddie tightly and allowed him entrance into her abode. He waved to me, and I returned the gesture. I couldn't help but to feel a little awkward around him. I still wasn't quite sure what I wanted to do about the situation, but I would figure it out soon.

Suddenly, Spencer yelled from the kitchen. "Spaghetti tacos are ready! Let's eat!"

I grinned because I'd almost forgotten how Spencer's voice sounded. My mouth watered with the thought of the meal. I'd attempted to make spaghetti tacos once by myself, but they weren't as good as I'd remembered and they actually made me a little sad. Also, my roommate, Ashley had stared at me funnily when she saw what I had made us for dinner. She'd eaten a microwave meal that night.

We gathered around the dinner table. I sat between Carly and Spencer, across from Freddie. Grabbing a large spoonful of marinara-drenched noodles, I filled my taco shell and set it down on my plate.

"Just like old times," said Spencer, smiling as he prepared to take a large bite from his taco. I studied him. In his face, it struck me just how much time had passed. Surely, he was nearing forty by now. He'd probably seen his first gray hair. In my head, Spencer was perpetually young, but on the outside, he would not be forever.

I took a bite, letting the food take over. I was certainly glad that I hadn't dressed up because I was soon speckled with tiny sauce stains which I rubbed away roughly with my napkin.

"So, how's work?" asked Carly, daintily dabbing her mouth with her napkin.

"It's going well," Freddie said. "The kids are good. I haven't had any major problems yet, and I actually am really enjoying work so far. What about you, Sam?"

"Um... You know, it is what is. I've never really liked children. Some of my students have promise, seem cool. But some of them just bug the crap out of me."

"You haven't said that to their faces, have you?" asked Carly.

"No," I replied, though I had seriously considered it. "So, how's journalism going?"

"Okay, so far. I've written a lot of obituaries so far," Carly said. "It's very depressing work. I hope I can get promoted to the local news section soon. Eventually, I might actually get to do the front-page, exciting news. But that could be years."

"Boyfriend?" I asked.

"Well... yes, kind of."

"Kind of?"

"Well, he was my boyfriend... Now, he's my fiance." With that, Carly flashed her engagement ring. I hadn't even noticed it. She had turned the diamond to the inside of her hand so it looked like an ordinary band. Probably, she'd wanted to save the reveal for later, along with a little more drama.

"Who?" I asked, breaking into a smile.

"_Kevin,"_ said Spencer in a goofy voice. "He asked me for approval and everything. He asked _me _for approval. I found that very amusing."

"It was gentlemanly and _sweet,"_ insisted Carly. Then she smiled more brightly than I'd ever seen her. "He's the best guy I've ever dated. No offense, Freddie."

"None taken," he said.

"After all, we were like thirteen, so..."

"Fifteen, wasn't it?"

"Hmm... maybe. Anyway, Kevin is the greatest. He is so smart, really nice. He understands me so well. Don't worry, you guys will definitely be part of the wedding. I'm not sure when it will be yet, but..." She sighed happily.

"Okay, that's nice and all... But let's stop with the mushiness, please?" I said, finishing off my first spaghetti taco and reaching for another.

"Sorry," Carly apologized, still grinning.

"So, what happened to Gibby?" asked Freddie, taking a large bite of his food.

"You guys won't believe this," she began with a small giggle. "So, do you guys know the Gib-bars? They sell them at movie theaters... and K-Mart."

"Um, yeah. I love those things. They're like chocolate, caramel deliciousness in 100 calories or less. Although I've always doubted that," I said. Surely they were too scrumptious to actually be healthy.

"Well, they were invented by Charles Gibson. Gibby! Not only that, but he has a bunch of other flavors. Only in Seattle, they sell Shay-Bars, Puckett-Bars, and Benson-Bars. You know, after us."

"What? How did I not know this?" I demanded.

"They're kind of a local thing. Mine is strawberry flavored with white chocolate. Freddie's is raspberry-dark chocolate. And yours, Sam, is vanilla with ham. It's not a top seller, but it has a very loyal following. Gibby refuses to drop the flavor. I think he really wants you to try it."

She got up from her chair then and reached into the cupboard. "I bought you a box. I'm not a fan, but you'll love it."

I stared at the box of Puckett-Bars. They looked absolutely mouth-watering. I licked my lips, dropped my taco on my plate, and tore open the cardboard. I split the aluminum wrapper and took a large bite of my namesake. My taste buds erupted into the Hallelujah chorus with the first taste. "Gibby is a genius," I said.

While I stuffed my face with Puckett-Bars, Carly turned to Spencer and asked him to give some updates on his life.

"Not much has changed," Spencer started. "I got a few of my sculptures into museums. There's this one made that's based on Mr. Potato-Head made of real potatoes! It kind of rotted a little, but the museum sprays air freshener and it's all good. I started a few more fires, but no major ones. Oh, and my girlfriend and I are celebrating our six month anniversary next week!"

"That's like a record for him," Carly noted.

"Spencer? Settling down?" I said in shock.

"Not _yet," _he said. "But she actually seems to accept my eccentricities and embrace my artistry. In fact, I could see myself spending the rest of my life with her." With that, Spencer's eyes drifted off to the side and he became absorbed into a daydream.

I grimaced. All these lovey-dovey people were making me feel nauseous. Okay, and maybe a little jealous too, but mostly nauseous. Absentmindedly, I found my gaze flitting over towards Freddie. When he met my eyes, I quickly stuffed another Puckett-Bar into my mouth and averted my gaze.

* * *

><p>After dinner, Spencer went upstairs to work on some art project involving lots of spray paint. His studio had claimed the area we used to perform iCarly. The three of us went into Carly's room to chat. It still looked nearly the same from when we'd remodeled it after it burned down. She'd removed a few of the overly girly objects and replaced them with more mature furniture and accessories, but it retained the appearance of a teenage girl's dream bedroom. But it was fitting anyway.<p>

Carly had come up with an idea to break the ice a bit more and to recap the last few years. "So, I'm going to set a timer, and you all have one minute to retell the last seven years of your lives. Full sentences are discouraged," Carly said. She grabbed her Pear Phone from her desk and opened the stopwatch application. "I'll go first. Time me, Freddie." She handed him her phone.

"Go," he said, tapping the screen.

"Went to college. Wrote a million essays. Interviewed and researched constantly. Got a boyfriend, Kevin. Broke up. Graduated. Got back together with ex. Got job at Seattle Tribune. Wrote obituaries. Sad because Ms. Briggs was never one of them. Helped Spencer get a girlfriend. Went to England for vacation. Volunteered at animal shelter. Got engaged. Went—"

"Time!" Freddie called out. "Good job."

"Yeah. Think I covered just about everything. Okay, your turn, Freddie." She took back her phone and started the time.

"Started at Stanford. Took lots of tough classes. Became overwhelmed. Changed focus to teaching. Avoided parties and studied all day. Um... felt kind of lonely. Graduated in top ten percent. Student-taught in suburbs. Hired at Ridgeway. Got hit on by Ms. Briggs. Met kids—"

"Done," said Carly. "Now you, Sam."

I breathed in deeply. I didn't want to over-think this. I just wanted to let the words flow out, and I didn't want to lie. Carly told me to start. "Went to Berklee. Stupid roommates every year. Music theory and composition were the best. Wrote lots of songs, recorded demos. Nothing came about... Got boyfriend. He wrote songs for me, made a CD. Broke up. Came back to Seattle. Found job somehow. And now I'm here." I stopped exactly as Carly called time.

I'd only had a minute to describe the last seven years. If I'd had longer, I would probably have admitted the endless nights of crying myself to sleep. The awkward dating experiences. The unsatisfiable longing that haunted me in every dream. I didn't want to admit these things out loud, so I was glad to have only had a minute.

After the brief sharing sessions, we settled into conversation. Carly shared some gossip about our old high school friends. I described a few concerts I'd attended. Freddie kind of ruined everything when he started going on about some boring tech experiment. While he talked, I found myself lost in a memory.

* * *

><p>May, Senior Year of College<p>

"So, what was that thing you were telling me about on the phone?" I asked Alex as I entered his dorm room. It was a typical boy's room, except he appeared to have made a small effort to pick up the dirty clothes from the floor and clean off his desk.

"New song," he replied. He grabbed his guitar from its case in the corner and took a seat on his bed. "It's for the album, the last one I wrote. We'll probably have it all mixed by the end of the summer, ready for release."

"Great," I said. I was happy for his success, really. I knew how much Alex and his band members loved their music, and they'd worked incredibly hard for this. However, I was still a tiny bit jealous because the same wasn't working out for me. "What's it called?"

He paused and drifted his fingers across the strings before replying, "It's called 'She Doesn't'."

"Doesn't what?" I asked. I was well aware that the album was almost completely about me because Alex did practically all of the lyric writing and apparently, I was the main source of inspiration. So, what did the title mean?

"You'll see," he said. Then, he began playing, finger-picking out a melody. Alex began singing soon after, his lightly gravelly voice filling the room although he sung softly. The chorus went,

_"And I love her so much_

_ And I know she sees_

_ But no matter what I do_

_ She just doesn't love me."_

When I heard those words, I felt my heart pound harder in my chest and I grew uncomfortable standing in the middle of his room. He didn't sing it with a hint of anger or bitterness, just calm acceptance. He knew. How couldn't he know? It wasn't like I'd tried very hard to hide what I felt.

When he finished his song, Alex looked back up at me and shrugged as if to say, 'Are you going to deny it or what?'

I wish I could have said something sweet, nice, comforting. I wish I could be the perfect girlfriend, and that I could console him and convince him of my love. But I couldn't. I had to stop leading him on at some point. And that point had to be today.

"I'm sorry," I said, simply.

"There's someone else, isn't there?" he asked. Tears didn't rag his voice, though I could tell how hurt he was.

I could only nod.

"When? Who?"

"His name is Freddie. He was my boyfriend in high school and... And I was so stupid to let him go. I know it sounds so dumb. I was only eighteen, but I think he's the closest I've ever come to love. He's in California now, at Stanford. It's been four years, but I still think about him constantly."

I paused and looked at him, tears clouding my vision. "Alex, you were the only one I let in this whole time. I care about you a lot, and you're a great guy. You're just... you're not him."

"I know," he replied. "I'm not mad. I'm not angry. I'm glad to have met you, gotten to know you. You gave me a lot of smiles, a lot of songs. I'll miss you and your ham addiction, but I have to let you go now. You've got to go find him again."

"But what if I can't? What if he's gone or... he's found someone else?"

Alex shrugged. "I've found that usually things work out all right in the end. If that means you find each other again... I think it's going to happen."

"Thank you," I said. "Thank you for not being mad, for understanding. And I know you'll find someone in the end too. Someone great. You're a good guy."

"And you're an awesome girl. So, get out there and find him."

"I will." I laughed through the tears. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Puckett."

* * *

><p>Present<p>

I checked the clock, 10:30. "Well," I said. "I need to be heading home. I have a lot of papers to grade this weekend, and I'm have to come up with a project for my Composition students."

"Wow, Sam, you're so responsible," said Freddie.

I stuck my tongue out at him. "A lot has changed about me."

"I've noticed."

I didn't know what exactly he meant by that, but I waved and headed for the door. However, when I made it to the street and my car, something was wrong. My car refused to start no matter how many times I turned the key. Unfortunately, I was no expert when it came to vehicles. With a loud sigh, I returned to the apartment.

"I'm going to need a ride," I announced. "My car broke down."

"I'll drive you," Freddie said, standing up from his chair. "It's no problem. I was going to head out anyway."

Carly looked at me meaningfully, eyes flashing between the two of us. I flushed and tried to ignore her. "Sure. Thanks, Fredward."

"Let's go," he said.

**Author's Note: Thanks for reading. Next chapter will have some Seddie moments. I feel like they're a little OOC in this chapter, but I think the next will be better. Review and give any suggestions/comments that you have. Thank you!**


	10. Chapter 10

Freddie's POV

Sam wasn't looking at me. She was staring out the window, her head propped up sideways on the glass. Outside it was drizzling and the rain drops left paths on the windshield, which were quickly erased and by the wipers and replaced again in new patterns. Headlights shone through the darkness, and Sam's pale hair seemed to glow in their beams.

My heart shouldn't have been beating so fast. This was me driving home a friend, a colleague. But, against my will, I felt the palpitations pounding within my chest. Deep breaths, I lectured myself.

"I hope nothing's seriously wrong with your car," I said, flipping off the radio with a dull click and deciding to fill the silence with my voice instead of the wailing of a currently popular pop chanteuse.

"Yeah. Carly said she'd call some people to come and fix it, but that won't happen until tomorrow. Good thing we don't have work then."

"I would have checked it out for you—"

"Oh, Fredward, don't go and pretend your some mechanics expert. It's really not impressing me."

"Who said I was trying to impress you?"

"No one needs to tell me. It's pretty obvious." I shook my head at her, utterly baffled. What had I done to quote-on-quote 'impress' her? In fact, I'd made a rather conscious effort to act as normal as possible.

"Okay, Sam, there's no need to make things up. I did nothing of the kind. How about we change the subject to something more rooted in reality?"

"Oh, come _on, _Frednerd. If you weren't trying to impress me with your stupid tech talk and that... _outfit_, then what were you doing?"

I glanced down at what I was wearing. It was just a short-sleeved blue polo shirt and jeans. "What's wrong with my outfit?"

It was dark outside, but I could still tell Sam was blushing as her eyes darted away from mine. I grinned. She'd noticed the work I'd put into my arms since I'd last seen her. I'd actually had a lot of time to work out these last few years. After all, I had barely any friends during college.

She mumbled something unintelligible, then changed the subject. "Turn right," she said, directing me towards her new apartment.

"So, you managed to move out of your mom's place?" I asked as I rotated the wheel. That was probably a very good thing as Pam had seemed to get gradually more and more crazy each new year.

"Yep," she said. "Endless shifts at McDonald's, selling a couple songs. That will do it. How about you, Benson? Escape Crazy's house yet?"

"Yes," I replied, sharply. "And don't call my mother Crazy. She just wants what's best for me. That's not crazy. It's nice."

"Well, then, she's way too nice."

"You know, you could be a little more like her. You know, caring, supportive, decent. It'd be a positive change."

Her head snapped around to face me. "You want me to be more like your mother? Are you serious right now?"

"I don't think it could hurt."

"Fine. I'll start now._ Both hand on the wheel, because when you're paralyzed it's hard to_ _feel_," she sang. I had to admit, even to the tune of an insipid nursery rhyme, Sam's voice sounded absolutely beautiful. Then, she reached across and grabbed my right hand and shoved it atop the steering wheel.

I felt my hand jerk away from hers subconsciously. So juvenile, like she was the girl in kindergarten that I was convinced had cooties or something. Except that wasn't why I'd shied away from her touch. It was because I felt something when our hands brushed. I took a deep breath and pushed the feelings down, so I could ignore them for however long I had to. This was nothing new.

"Left," Sam said. With both hands firmly gripping the wheel, I turned.

"_Left_," she said again. "I said left."

It became obvious that I had accidentally turned right. "Whoops," I muttered. "Sorry."

"Does someone need to review their directions again?" she taunted, leaning back in her seat as if to say 'This is going to be a long ride.' Quickly she composed another rhyme. "_Remember that the direction right is the hand with which little Freddie writes." _She made her voice sound like my mother's. It was actually a pretty good imitation.

Somehow, I found a loop to turn around in. It seemed as if all cars had vacated the area, leaving us completely alone. This shouldn't happen. We were in Seattle, a major city, yet it felt impossibly quiet.

"It was nice to be together, the three of us, again," I noted while making the correct turn this time. "It seemed almost like the old days."

"Key word being almost," Sam said.

"What do you mean?"

"You could practically taste the awkward the whole time. Things are so different now. Spencer is in a steady relationship. Carly is engaged. Gibby is doing something somewhat normal. I'm a teacher. And you're..."

"I'm what?"

She whispered something I couldn't catch.

"What?"

"You're not with me." Then she moved her entire body so as not to gauge my expression. I stared at her back and clutched the steering wheel to keep from falling out of my seat with shock.

I didn't say anything, just gulped down the random, garbled phrases that rushed to my tongue. It wouldn't be wise to vocalize them. So I was silent, making things all together worse.

"Okay, let's ignore the last part. What's up with Spencer and his girlfriend?" Sam giggled awkwardly.

"Yeah, that sure was weird," I said. "Who would've thought?"

"About time though. His relationships never lasted longer than, like, a week. Like a one episode plot device on a sitcom."

Then Sam directed me for three more turns before we arrived at her apartment. It looked a bit nicer than her old one, cleaner at least. She opened the car door, and I watched her leave.

"Can I walk you back to your apartment?" I called to her retreating back.

She looked at me with a confused expression on her face. The lights of my car lit up her face, and she looked nearly angelic. My stomach clenched. I missed her so much. "Um, I know the way, Benson. Thanks for the useless offer."

"Yeah, obviously." I laughed nervously. "Well, I'll see you on Monday. We should do this again. It was... fun."

"You could call it that." She didn't seem to agree that 'fun' was the correct adjective. Unfortunately, I had to concur. By the end, awkward seemed a more apt description.

"Goodbye, Sam."

"Bye." Then she walked away, disappearing as she drifted away from the glare of my headlights.

* * *

><p>April, Senior Year of High School<p>

I was at Carly's apartment. Sam was sick with some kind of fever that was highly contagious, and Carly had just rushed off to meet somebody for a school project. This left me alone with Spencer. I could have left too, but my mother was in a particularly strange mood today. Plus, she had made some weird asparagus-carrot dip the night before, and I knew she'd force it upon me if I returned home.

Spencer was painting some old McDonald's toys in neon colors for his new sculpture. "Can I help?" I asked. He nodded, deeply absorbed in painting a mini-Barbie bright green. I reached for the bright turquoise and a toy skateboard.

After completely coating the tiny doll in paint, Spencer set it on a drying rack and smiled, satisfied. "So, how are you these days, Freddie?" he asked, reaching for another figurine to drench with color.

"Great. It's hard to believe that high school's gonna be over in just over a month. Then, it's off to Stanford."

"Oh, Stanford. California," he said, dipping his paintbrush in yellow. "What about Sam?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's likely that you're gonna be separated. You know, by a lot."

"Well yeah. But we're not breaking up or anything. Things are going great," I replied. They were, weren't they? Suddenly, I found doubts creeping into my thoughts. Spencer was right of course. I didn't know where Sam had been accepted to. What if it was to Berklee like she'd wanted so much? That was on the whole other side of the country.

"You know, I think I knew that it was you two since the very beginning. That little crush you had Carly forever ago just never went anywhere. But you and Sam... Well, we all know what happened. You guys are just too cute."

"Spencer, you're embarrassing me."

"Sorry. I just can't help myself." After he finished painting another toy, he looked at me seriously. "So, why aren't you at Sam's house?"

"Because she's sick. She doesn't want me to catch it."

"Sam? Staying in bed? That doesn't sound like her. She must be pretty miserable."

"I know. Usually, she's up and about even when she's really ill. She's got to be super sick."

"So, why are you here? Go on!"

I laughed. "Yeah, I'll see you later, Spencer. I've got someone to see."

* * *

><p>Present<p>

As I lay alone on my bed, returned from driving home Sam, I made myself a promise. This useless waiting around and awkwardness was going to stop. I was going to do something about this. On Monday, I would ask out Sam to the Groovy Smoothie. At least if it didn't work out too well we would have food to distract ourselves. Because when it came down to it, I needed Sam back.

**Wow, I'm so sorry for the delay. Writer's block + vacation = no updates. I think this will probably have 3-4 chapters left, though I'm not sure. Please comment and I'd also love some ideas for flashbacks. It's summer now, so I'm hoping for faster updates now. Also, I just wrote the first chapter for another multi-chapter Seddie story, so check that out soon.**


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